In the Heart of Tornado Alley
by PurpleBlaze
Summary: Expect drama, action, natural disaster, bloodshed, gang violence, and a splash of humor. Rated for later chapters.
1. Monday

Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders or any Outsiders' character.

**1979 –Ponyboy's point of view**

As I drove home from work one overcast Monday afternoon, all I could think about was Star Trek. I had recently started watching the 60's show and liked it more than I thought I would. There was a marathon starting in fifteen minutes and I wanted to hurry home so that I could catch it when it started. I hoped no one in the gang, especially Two-Bit, ever found out. Two-Bit was known to endlessly make fun of people he suspected were Trekkies.

Suddenly the wail of a patrol car siren started behind me and I eagerly looked around for the sucker who was getting pulled over. Oh crap, it was me.

"What the heck?" I wondered. I checked the speedometer. I as going the speed limit! Okay, 5ish miles over, but that shouldn't be enough to get pulled over. I looked around, but there was no stop sign in sight.

Resigned, I pulled over and began to rummage through the glove compartment for my registration. License and the registration in hand, I cranked my window down. My car was a piece of junk. I had a hunch that the window wouldn't roll back up just to spite me. Because if cars have a sense of humor, mine was the Jack Benny among vehicles. Aka: comical and cheap.

I glanced nervously in the rearview mirror and then rolled my eyes in exasperation. My dear brother, Sodapop Curtis, swaggered up to my window, his hand placed cockily on his holster.

"Well, well…It's another damn hood who thinks that he's all that," he sneered as he came up to my window. "Planning to go to a rave tonight and get high? Well not on my watch, you white trash!"

"Actually, you're keeping me from a night of chilling in front of the tube." _Just don't ask me what I'm watching_, I thought.

"A likely story! Couldn't come up with anything better? Too busy playing with your whores to come up with an alibi to tell the coppers?"

"Are you done yet?" I asked plainly.

"I'll ask the questions around here you low life, bootlicking, party hopping piece of slime." I leaned my head back and pretended to sleep during his little tirade.

"Okay, I'm done now," he said.

My eyes popped open. "Is that what you pulled me over to tell me, what a half wit, low-life scum I am? I bet Steve told you what to say." I twisted around in my seat to wave at Steve Randall, who was sitting in the cop car. He was kicked back in the seat with his feet up on the dash and reading the Tulsa-Tribune-Herald.

I didn't hate Steve the way I used to. One day out of nowhere it was like we had both grown up. We were both adults and didn't really care about childhood rivalries. Besides, I had been busy with school and he was too busy with Evie.

Out of the blue when Steve was eighteen and Evie was seventeen, she informed him that she was pregnant. Nine months later they were married with a son. The marriage was far from happy though and a year later they separated and filed for divorce. The day before the papers were supposed to be filed baby number two was discovered. So now the two of them were trapped in a loveless marriage with two kids.

"No, Steve, Officer Randall to you young man, did not tell me what to say. I can see for myself that you are a troubled young man."

Me, Darry, and everybody we knew had the shock of our lives when Soda decided at age twenty-three that he wanted to be a police officer. Apparently he didn't want to spend the rest of his life working minimum wage at a car shop. So he got his GED, went to Police Academy, and at age twenty-five was certified into the Tulsa Police department.

Steve, who had a family to support, followed in his footsteps a year later. I suspect that he mostly did it to get away from his family and spend more time with his best friend.

Now they are partners and have the time of their lives. I know that they are way harsher on socs ticket wise than they are on fellow greasers. And they usually worked in the next county over, so getting their friends into trouble had not been much of a problem yet.

"Actually," Soda was saying, "I was on my way home with ice cream when me and Steve got dispatched to the next town over for a little crowd control. A couple of small tornadoes knocked down a couple power lines and the wall of a barn. So now I gotta go direct traffic for a couple of hours."

He sighed dramatically. I swear he should have gone into acting. He certainly already had the looks to be a famous actor. "So now, I don't have time to go home and drop the ice cream off before it melts. Then, as if it were fate, I saw your dinky little junk bucket and knew what to do- Give it to you!"

He went to the patrol car and came back with a gallon of double chocolate chunk. Taking it from him, I said dryly, "Boy howdy. I sure deserve ice cream after what I just went through."

Soda laughed and messed up my hair. "Drive carefully baby bro."

He walked back to his car. I quickly leaned over to roll my window back up. I groaned. Just as I had suspected, the handle was jammed.

Soda's patrol car shot around me and zoomed up to way over the speed limit. Soda always said the coolest thing about being a cop was that you could speed all the time and you would never get in trouble.

I gave up on the window and prayed it wouldn't start raining until I got to the parking garage of my apartment.

_Yes! Yes! Yes! _I mentally cheered ten minutes later when I pulled into the parking garage the moment rain began to drizzle down.

This was my lucky day: Except for the window thing, I got ice cream, out of the rain, _and_ a close parking spot was open.

With more gratification than was probably necessary, I pulled into my lucky spot. I grabbed the stack of papers needing to be graded and jumped out of the car. Or at least I would have jumped if my pants didn't catch on a loose staple of the seat. So in reality I half jumped/half fell out of the car. I did manage to keep the papers from spilling onto the dirty concrete. I stood up and casually looked around to make sure that nobody saw. Nobody had.

After double checking to make sure the car door was locked I continued on to the building. It was pretty redundant since my window was wide open, but it was a habit since I didn't live in the safest area. My apartment building is infamous for its large amount of car jackings and burglaries. Darry had been on me to move forever, but it as all I could afford. I was almost positive my car would be safe though because car jackers have higher standards than to steal my piece of junk.

7-6-3-0-5. I punched in the building code that would let me in. I walked in and headed to the stair well because the elevator was indefinitely broken.

Two-Bit, Soda, Darry, and Steve were all doing great in life (especially Darry), but my life wasn't too shabby either.

I had graduated from high school at the top of my class when I as seventeen. A scholarship had paid for my tuition and books, and money from grants, Darry, and my part time job had covered living expenses. When I graduated with my bachelor's I worked as a press assistant at the Tulsa-Tribune-Herald and free lanced articles for an agriculture journal while I worked on my Masters degree in English. I got my Masters at age twenty-three with a relatively small debt thanks, once again, to scholarships, grants, my job, and a little help from Darry. When I had received my Masters, Tulsa Community College contacted me with a job offer. So now I taught English at the community college with a morning class from 9-11 and an afternoon class from noon to two. This semester they had also roped me into teaching poetry interpretation form 2:30-3:45.

I finished climbing the five flights of stairs and reached my apartment. I opened my door and was shocked by what I saw.

There lay Two-Bit sprawled on the floor with his eyes glued to the TV. That's not the shocking part though. The opening theme of star Trek blared onscreen.

"I don't believe it. You're a trekkie!" I exclaimed from the doorway.

Two-Bit actually had the decency to look embarrassed. "I though you weren't going to be home until 5," he accused.

"Yeah, but my poetry class got out early because they had a quiz and could leave." I walked over to my cluttered desk shoved in the corner of the living room. "Don't you have your own apartment?" Two-Bit lived in the same building three floors below me.

"My fridge is empty," he defended himself.

I plopped down into an easy chair I had gotten cheap a garage sale. This was the perfect opportunity to watch star Trek without actually admitting that I watch it anyway.

"I guess I'll watch it too. I have nothing better to do," I said casually. I should have stopped there while I was ahead. But noo… I had to go on and say, "Oh, this episode isn't that great. The one after it should be tuff though."

Two-Bit turned and looked at me disbelievingly. I realized my mistake too late. I never learned how to use my head. "I would guess. I wouldn't really know for sure," I finished lamely.

Two-Bit burst into laughter. "This whole time," he gasped between laughs. He couldn't finish what he was going to say he was laughing so hard.

"You don't even know what you're laughing at you've had so much to drink."

He stood up. "Oh yes I do." He walked to the kitchenette and came back with three beers. He tossed one to me and kept two for himself. Even though I put back a few not and again, on my best drinking day I couldn't keep up with Two-Bit. "If you hadn't caught me I would so be making fun of you right now," he said.

"Thanks a lot Buddy," I said sarcastically.

We agreed that the rest of the gang didn't need to know about this before we settled down to watch the marathon for the rest of the night. We both completely ignored the weather warnings about next week that kept sliding across the top of the screen.

_Okay guys, this is a test chapter to see if people like the story. The action won't come until later. Be brutally honest about what you think. If I do continue on with this story, chapter 2 will catch up with Darry's and Two-Bit's lives and set up the plot more. Now press the little purple button and tell me what you think. (That's an order! Please?)_


	2. Tuesday

Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders or any Outsiders' character.

**Ponyboy's Point of View**

It had already been a long day and it was only my first class of the day. So naturally- I took it out on my students. I walked in between desks passing back their essays.

"A lot of your thesis statements left a lot to be desired. Actually most of them did. Thesis makes me think of theses, which is its plural form. This, naturally, makes me think of feces because your papers are crap."

Most of my students looked at me in surprise. I've started a reputation as a pretty cool professor. I'm not easy on them but I don't usually chew out the students like I was doing that Tuesday. I passed out the last of the papers and went to the front of the room. I sat on the edge of my desk. It's my usual position to address my classes.

"I was hoping that more of you would address the theme of 'Heart of Darkness' as a whole. That power and greed can corrupt individuals, as it did with the morally ambiguous Kurtz. On your next paper, don't ramble so much on your intros. Get to the point. Tonight read up to page 124 in 'As I Lay Dying' and we'll have a quiz and a discussion on Thursday. Class dismissed."

I waked around the desk and sat in my chair. I hoped that none of the students would come and talk to me after class. They all seemed to have felt my mood and scattered quickly. Good. I put my head in my hands with my elbows on the desk.

I had such a hangover! After the marathon had ended last night, Two-Bit and I caught up with some friends at a bar until 2 in the morning. I had more to drink than I had planned on, in addition to the beers at my apartment. All that had added up to a splitting headache this morning that no amount of aspirin could cure.

I needed some coffee. I stodp up abruptly when realized where I could get some good, strong coffee. Not the weak stuff they serve in the teacher's lounge.

The college was having some construction work done around campus and had hired the construction company Darry co-owned. Just as everybody had been surprised when Soda changed jobs, no one was surprised that Darry got promoted, saved his higher income, and used it to expand the company and become co-owner. He and his wife got to move to the middle class part of town.

I left the west wing of the English building and headed toward the east wing.

Tulsa Community College had decided to remodel the main building and add on a large extension. Needless to say, the consistent pounding and sawing and drilling did nothing to help my poor head.

I found Darry standing near a pile of lumber, clipboard in hand, watching the construction process going on. I swear Darry gets more muscles every year. He was so ripped he made the regular workers' arms look like noodles. I know Darry certainly made me feel like a dwarf, and I was no slouch either. There was a coffee table next to Darry, and that's what I was aiming for. I poured myself a cup. A worker saw me and glared at me.

"That's for crew only," he snapped.

Darry glanced over from where he was checking things off his list.

"He's with me," Darry said shortly.

The guy backed off. Nobody argues with Darry. I resisted the childish urge to stick my tongue out and went to go stand by Darry.

"Why is the sun so cheerfully bright," I winced.

"I have no sympathy for you Pone. You should have known better before you went out partying. On a work night nonetheless."

I shaded my eyes with my hand and searched the skeleton of the new wing for a particular face. There! Straddling a beam on the second floor sat Two-Bit with a hammer.

A few years ago when the company expanded, Darry started looking for new employees. Two-Bit filled one of the vacancies and has been a decent worker for Darry ever since. Not the best of course, but certainly not the worst.

"You actually made him come to work today?"

"Just because he's my friend doesn't mean that I should treat him any differently from the rest of my employees."

"Absolutely it does!" I argued.

"It wouldn't be fair," he said firmly. I let it go. Nobody argues with Darry.

"How's Charlene doing today? Run you out of the house at six this morning?"

If Darry had been a less dignified person, he would have rolled his eyes.

"I leave the house at six every morning. And you know that."

"And what a stupid hour it is to be up and about," I quipped.

After I graduated, he married his girlfriend of three years. A few years ago they wanted to start a family, but Charlene had miscarried. She was now pregnant again and we were all holding our breath, hoping for the best.

"Did you know that Linda and Soda broke up?"

I chocked on my coffee. I was so shocked. Darry had to stop writing numbers down on his clipboard to slap me on the back.

Linda was a social worker. And get this; she used to be MY social worker. She was new to the job when they stuck her with my case when I was seventeen. Darry and I could only gape in amazement when Soda flirted with the nervous blond social worker who came to check out the house. She left behind her approval of my situation and her phone number. They had dated on and off ever since. They had been living together for the past eight months and I thought they were really going to stick it out this time. Apparently I was wrong.

"What?! Why?"

"You know Soda and Linda," Darry said.

I did know them. They were always either passionately in love or passionately broken up.

"They'll get back together," I said. "This is what? Big break-up number 50?"

"Actually it is number twelve," Darry said. And I didn't doubt that he was right. He always keeps tabs on everything Soda and I do and he remembers them. Even though he is not legally responsible for us anymore he always watches out for us. Not just as a brother, but as a parent too. Knowing that can be the most irksome and most comforting feeling.

----------------

**Sodapop's Point of View**

"I think you overreacted," Steve told me.

"I don't think that's any of your business."

Steve ignored me and kept going. "I don't even get what's wrong with you and Linda. You're both so calm and you get everybody and everything, but when you get together you both get so irrational. What was you're last break-up? When she got the new puppy without consulting you? Trust me, I know how you feel man, but this is just as stupid as that. No real reason to get mad."

I sighed inwardly. I didn't want to think of Linda. The horrible thing she had done without even realizing it. I loved her, but I couldn't be with anyone that would do such a despicable action.

"Unit 13… report to 7-11… Armed robbery in progress…" crackled the dispatcher's voice.

That was us. Steve, who was driving, slammed on the brakes and turned the car around.

The 7-11 was one block away.

With sirens blaring and lights flashing, we squealed to a stop outside the convenience store. I didn't even wait for the car to stop before I leaped out of the car. I drew my gun and dashed in.

"Stop where you are," I shouted. "This is the police."

A man was standing at the counter holding a crowbar with his right hand and waving it around in the air. Clutched in his left hand was a .22 caliber pistol. The robber turned toward me with a snarl and I almost stepped back in shock. It was Curly Shepard.

I realized with horror that if Curly made a threatening move toward the man behind the counter, I might have to shoot Curly.

All of the sudden Curly hurled the crowbar at me with all his strength. I had to duck to the side to avoid it hitting me. Curly shoved past me and out the door as soon as I ducked.

I ran outside and watched Curly sprint down the cracked sidewalk. I chased after him. I vauely heard Steve calling for back up behind me but I ignore it. I focused all my attention on the person in front of me. I could see that Curly was getting tired. He wasn't in as good of shape as me. Perspiration makes his shirt damp and he is already gasping in lungful of air.

I see a glint. I don't understand at first- but then I got it.

_Stupid! _I told myself._ The gun!_

I dove to safety behind a metal trashcan. A spark exploded off of the cement where I had been standing just a moment before. I couldn't believe it… Curly Shepard shot at me.

I noticed Steve crouched behind a civic Honda near Curly.

"Put down your weapon," he authoritatively yelled.

Curly turned toward Steve and raised the gun again.

Before his arm is even halfway up I gave him a flying tackle from behind. He hit the cement with a hard thud. Steve was next to me in an instant with handcuffs ready.

"You have the right to remain silent…" he began.

My mind was reeling. This was a different county. I should not have run into somebody that I knew. With a strange sense of foreboding I suddenly knew that this would not be the last time I would see an old face, and I didn't like it.

_Thanks to everybody who reviewed the first chapter!_


	3. Wednesday

**Author's note: The italic parts are flashbacks.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.**

**Soda's point of view**

I'm here to see Jake Brumley," I said to the hospital receptionist. She ignored me and continued her filing.

"Ma'am?" I drummed my fingers on the blue ceramic countertop. She was a good lookin' girl. Normally I would have flirted a little to get what I wanted, but on that Wednesday I was too stressed. That Wednesday's repercussions would continue to haunt me for a long time to come. I squeezed my eyes shut.

_My finger squeezes the trigger_

"I'll be with you in a moment," the receptionist promised. She made no effort to turn around and help us though. Steve and I leaned against the counter and glared at the back of her head. Steve barked out in his 'police officer who means business voice', "Lady, you're in danger of being charged with aggravating an officer of the law!"

Suddenly the receptionist couldn't help us fast enough. She whipped around so quick that the chair rolled right out from under her. I couldn't help but smirk.

Moments later Steve and I were walking down the hallway toward room 315.

_He reaches into his jacket for the gun I know is there. He points it at Steve. My finger pulls the trigger_

Steve put out a hand to stop me when we were one hallway away from the room.

"Let's go home," he said. "We're no good here to anyone."

"I want to see if he's okay," I said.

Steve looked at me pityingly. He knew, as I knew, that Jake would never be alright.

_A body crumples alone on the street… Shot down by the police… By me… The ice cold pistol smokes in my hands!_

It wasn't under a streetlight, or at night; it was in bright daylight. But it was the same situation.

Steve hadn't been my friend for so long without being able to read my mind. "It wasn't Dally. The gun was no bluff." He paused. "No one will thank you if you walk into that room." I nodded reluctantly. We turned around. As we pushed open the glass hospital doors into the parking lot, I made a face a Steve. "Lately, why does it seem as if you're always telling me not to do stupid things?" I asked.

Steve shook his head at me condescendingly. "I don't know man, why is it? It's tough being so smart when you're best friend is a real half-wit." He easily dodged my punch.

"Well, well, well," a cold voice said from behind us. Steve and I whirled around. Leaning against the wall were five of the Brumley boys. Only three of the guys in the gang were actually Brumleys, including Jake. The leader, Kyle Brumley, crossed his arms and glared at us.

"Jake's dead."

Steve and I had our arms crossed too, with greaser tough expressions.

"That so?" Steve asked nonchalantly.

"D'ya know why?" Kyle spat at my feet. "Cuz of you!"

"He brought it on himself," I replied scornfully.

Kyle had an expression on his face that I didn't like. He did not look like a bereaved brother. Rather, he wore a hateful, malicious, and even calculating look.

Almost coyly he said, "Will Darry and Ponyboy bring it upon themselves, too?"

I clenched my fist forward. "Is that a threat Brumley?"

"Why would I threaten you Curtis? You act like I want revenge on you or something." He turned away and started walking back inside the hospital. He paused to look over his shoulder. He actually smiled at me. "It's a terrible thing Curtis, to suddenly lose a brother. I hope you never know what that feels like." The boys in his gang all snorted and snickered and followed Kyle inside.

If Steve hadn't held me back I would have went in after him.

_Thank you to everybody who reviewed the last chapter. __ I completely realize that it took me almost a full month and a half to update, and I will tell you why: This chapter started out as an almost 2500 word draft that included the shooting scene, the hospital scene, a looong conversation between Soda and Steve, all followed by a visit to Charlene's and Darry's house in the suburbs. I didn't like it, so I definitely didn't want to post it. Finally, I chopped off more than half the chapter and combined the two remaining scenes for a cleaner, less rambling copy. The Thursday chapter (which focuses on the trouble Pony gets into) is already written, I just need to type it up and revise it sometime. If you're still reading this explanation, I'm impressed._


	4. Thursday afternoon

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders, but I can dream.**

**Ponyboy's point of view**

I shoved my hands into my pockets as I began the long trek to the bookstore. Just as I had long suspected, my car's transmission finally gave out on me. I would have to have Soda or Steve check it out later. They could do anything on a car that a mechanic could, only way cheaper.

Although it was inconvenient to walk, I was pleased to get the chance to get outside on such a beautiful late afternoon. I never grew out of the pleasure of walking along to think.

I was about three blocks from my destination when I first spotted the mustang tailing me. I ducked around a couple corners quickly. Sure enough, the mustang pulled around the corners moments after me.

I suddenly found myself alone on a deserted street. In my haste to check to make sure that the car was really following me, I had unintentionally left the safety of a crowd. I just don't use my head sometimes; I felt fourteen all over again.

I whirled around to face the car. I was a twenty-six year old man now! I would just confront these people and find out their problem with me.

The mustang parked and three burly guys got out carrying two bats. I recognized them as members of the Brumley gang. They sauntered toward me, and I didn't feel so brave anymore.

"Hey guys," I said. "What's up?" They didn't say anything, which unnerved me. Instead they just sped up. They were ten feet away… eight… six… four…. The one nearest to me swung his bat hard and fast toward my head! I ducked. The bat missed my scalp by mere millimeters! This was crazy! These overgrown punks wanted me dead?!

I didn't see the other bat coming until it hit me. Luckily, the guy had a terrible aim and caught my right shoulder. Unluckily, he had a lot of force going for him behind that swing. My shoulder went numb from the sudden blow.

I still couldn't believe that fellow greasers were trying to kill me. Our gangs were never that close, but we never went after our own kind. It all seemed like a sick joke.

To me, I had only one choice: run like the dickens and hide. Whatever 'the dickens' was.

I waited for the next swing of a bat to duck it, grab it, shove it back at its owner, and haul butt in the opposite direction. I was still a fast runner; they didn't have a prayer of catching me. I was Hermes, Jesse James, and a rocket all rolled into one super fast, speeding bullet of an athl- I tripped!

I went down hard onto my left shoulder. I could feel the concrete scraping away at my flesh.

Next to me there was a bank. I scrambled to my feet and dashed to the doors. The doors were both securely locked.

Next door to the bank was the movie house I had worked in during college. The very same movie house I had gotten jumped at nearly thirteen years before. The irony of the moment was not lost on me.

I dashed into the movie theater and froze. Where could I run to? I ran across the lobby and into the storage room next to the concession stand. It was just in time too. One of the guys barged in just as the storage door was closing behind me.

I walked to the back and pushed open the back exit to the alley behind the theater. One of the Brumley boys was standing guard. Where the third one was located was anybody's guess.

Thinking fast, I took off my red flannel shirt and stuffed it behind the ice bin. I took a black vest and a black bow tie out of a box near the manager's office. A black vest, tie, white collared shirt, and black pants was the movie house's employee uniform. As I clipped on the tie, I hoped that my white t-shirt would pass as a nice shirt from a distance.

The night manager Carla looked sharply at me when I entered the concession area. She nodded at me when I jerked my head in the direction of my assailant, and she immediately walked past me to cut him off. She had worked at the theater for years; she knew the score.

The guy chasing me, Matt?, looked in my direction. I quickly crossed over to the popcorn machine to flip on the kettle motor and heat. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Matt shove past Carla to search the storage area. I haphazardly measured a container of corn kernels and added ¼ cup of salt to it. The missing third guy came out of a theater and went into the next one. Ah, so he was checking the theaters for me. I lifted the kettle lid and poured the kernels in. Matt came back out and looked my way. I hoped that he couldn't see my jeans from the other side of the counter. I pumped the oil valve to get coconut oil into the hot kettle. Matt and the other guy conferred in front of the concession stand. They were less than five feet from me. I closed the lid and started to pre-prepare another batch. I casually looked behind me. To my utter relief I saw both of them walking out the front door.

One thing was for sure, I wasn't going out there by myself again. (I finally learned my lesson after how many years?) I went to the manager's office to call for a ride home. I tried Two-Bit first; no answer. Then I tried Soda to the same avail. I made a third and final call. Feeling fourteen again for the millionth time that day I said, "Darry, can you come pick me up?"


	5. Thursday night

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders.**

**Darry's point of view**

"Do you want strawberry ice cream, or vanilla?" Charlene yelled from the kitchen.

"There's no chocolate?" I shouted back from my spot on the couch.

"Are you kidding? You or one of your brothers already ate it all. I'm a woman, and even I don't have the obsession with chocolate that you three seem to."

"Strawberry then."

It was Thursday evening and Charlene and I were settling down to watch a movie. It was some soppy romance that Charlene had wanted to watch with me. I'm not much of a movie person, but I could do it for my wife.

We were five minutes into the movie when the shrill ring of the telephone interrupted the scene.

I stretched out my arm backward to snatch the phone up in the middle of its third ring.

"Curtis residence."

It was quiet for a moment until a sheepish sounding voice said, "Darry, can you come pick me up?"

My eyebrows shot halfway up my forehead. I had always told Pony that he could call me for help whenever he needed it. When he was in college there were many nights where I had to pick him up in the early morning hours from a party where he had too much to drink and let him crash on my couch.

But it had been quite awhile since I've had to pick him up, and it was only eight at night too.

"Where are you?" I asked quickly, no questions asked.

"I'm at the movie house."

"The one where you got jumped at that one time?"

Pony laughed oddly, "The very same one."

I hung up and turned to Charlene.

"I need to go pick up Ponyboy."

Charlene looked concerned. "Is he alright? Do you want me to come with you?" She loved Pony like a brother. I wouldn't have married her if she didn't.

I kissed her and stood up. "That's alright. I'll be right back Char."

I'm usually a speed limit follower, but I drove to the theater pretty darn fast. I pulled up to the curb and got out. Almost instantly Pony walked out the door and toward me.

I looked him over critically. He seemed fine to me. He was walking in a straight line and everything. He was holding his arms weird though, I noticed.

"What's this all about?" I asked him over the cab of the truck.

He opened the passengers' side door and I got in. I got in on my side.

"Haven't you always said to get a ride when I was in a bad neighborhood?"

"Yes," I agreed. "But I told you that when you were in high school, and you certainly never listened then."

And then I listened in amazement as he told me very matter-of-factly about how almost got himself killed.

"What did you do to make them not like you so much?!" I demanded when he was done.

"I really have no idea Darry. I can't think of a single thing I might have done to get them so peeved at me."

"And where the heck is your car?" I continued.

"Broken," he stated flatly.

I sighed.

We pulled into my driveway a couple minutes later. Charlene was waiting for us outside. She rushed up to Pony as he got out of the truck.

"Are you all right Ponyboy?" she asked, grabbing him by the upper arm.

Pony winced away from her touch and hissed in pain.

"I better take a look at you inside," I said as I came around the truck.

Inside I carefully cleaned and wrapped the cuts up and down his left arm while he held an ice pack to the huge bruise on his right shoulder. They were pretty nasty looking. The many cuts on his left arm were deep and were oozing out blood. Luckily he had been wearing a long sleeve flannel shirt, which had prevented loose gravel from infecting them. His shoulder bruise where he got hit with the bat was swelling up to a rather unattractive black and purple. Charlene kept shooting him sympathetic looks.

"You're not walking anywhere alone again until we figure this whole situation out," I ordered as I applied ointment. Ponyboy rolled his eyes, but he didn't disagree.

After a moment I cleared my throat awkwardly. "I'm real proud that you thought to call me Pone. Instead of trying to be a tough guy." My voice sounded gruff, even to me.

Pony scoffed and said, "Like I had a choice. You would have skinned me if I hadn't." But I saw the tips of his ears turn red, a sure sign that he was embarrassed or pleased; probably both.

**Thank you so much to all the kind people who have been reviewing. I appreciate it so much!**


	6. Friday morning

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders. **

**Darry's Point of View **

"So what are we going to do about the Brumley boy problem?" I demanded.

Ponyboy, Soda, and I were all standing in Pony's apartment's parking garage. The hood of his junky car was popped up while Soda fiddled with stuff under it. The three of us were all caught up on the new threat in our lives.

"The thing about this is," Soda said from under the hood, "that this is the _Brumley_ Boys we're talking about. I could file a restraint at the station, or even issue assault charges, but if we take legal action they'll retaliate. Remember what happened to those guys who messed with them two years ago…" he trailed off. I shuddered at the memory. The Brumley Boys had always been quick on the revenge uptake.

"What I think should happen," Soda continued, "Is to settle it in a rumble."

Ponyboy scoffed. "We're grown men here. You can't be serious."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

I looked at my two brothers. I worried about them all the time, it felt like my job. I guess you could call me a professional worrier.

"I want it to be just skin, got it?" Pony nodded. Soda stuck his hand out from under the hood and gave me a thumbs up.

Pony changed the subject. "What's up with you and Linda?"

Soda groaned into the hood, "I really don't want to talk about it right now. We'll talk later buddy." And I knew they would, because Ponyboy and Sodapop had held onto their special relationship through the years.

After another ten minutes Soda straightened up.

"Turn on the gas will you Pony?"

Pony obediently slid into the driver's seat and put the key into the transmission. The engine sputtered to life.

Soda wiped his greasy hands off with a rag and slammed the car hood down.

He grinned impishly at Ponyboy. "I have to admit it: that has to be the wimpiest engine I have _ever_ heard." Pony just grinned and pressed down on the accelerator. A weak whine escaped the motor. The three of us laughed good-naturedly.

"Let's go out for burgers," I suggested. "My treat."

"Quick! Take him up on it," Soda shouted at Pony as he dived into the backseat. "Before old skinflint here changes his mind."

"I'll show you what a skinflint I am," I threatened. I tensed my muscles to show them off. I saw Pony shoot a jealous glance at them.

* * *

**Forty-five minutes later...**

"Uh-Oh. We have trouble," Pony announced as he watched rear view mirror. "That's the 'stang that jumped me yesterday." Soda and I turned in our seats to stare out the rear window. A black mustang trailed us. Two guys sat in the cab, only one of which I recognized. When they saw we had their attention they suddenly sped up and bumped us forward. We all lurched in our seats and Pony had to steady his grip on the steering wheel.

"Oh man. They're trying to run us off the road. What do I do?"

I replied. "It's three to two. Pull over."

"Don't do that," Soda yelped. "One of them has a heater. Speed up."

Pony sped up and maneuvered the car. He did all the right things, but despite his good driving skills, he still had a slow, rundown car that could not outrun the new model behind us.

"Head toward the ribbon," Soda advised, referring to a stretch of busy road that ran through the business side of town. "We'll lose them in traffic."

Pony turned a sharp left and headed that way, weaving fast in and out of traffic.

We approached a busy intersection going 70 miles an hour. Twenty yards ahead of us, the yellow lights turned red. Intersecting cars began moving forward. Pony looked at me with panic in his eyes.

"Stop."

He hit the brakes and we skidded to the white line. Long, black tire marks appeared in our wake.

And then the mustang hit us from behind. Hard.

Pony's tin junk bucket leapt forward sickeningly. He spun the wheel hard, but it was too late. A semi truck slammed into the side of the car. The side that Pony and Soda were sitting on, I noticed to my complete horror. I felt my seatbelt catch as we tumbled over. What felt like an eternity only lasted a few seconds. I was sideways, upside down, then right back up again. The car stopped with finality after a complete turn over.

I closed my eyes for a moment. "_Oh please God No," _I whispered before opening my eyes, afraid of what I would find. I couldn't believe it, but I was perfectly fine. If only…

I couldn't make myself look to my left. Was my life about to end? If anything happened to my brothers…

"Darry, are you all right?" A strangled voice asked. _Pony… _A lungful of air escaped my lungs.

"I'm fine. How about you?"

"My belly hurts something awful where the steering wheel hit, and my arm is on fire."

"Soda? Are you all right? SODA?!?"

He didn't answer. All I heard was shallow breathing in the backseat.

**To be honest, I kind of forgot about this story; which won't happen again. I had to go back and reread it to remember where I was going with it. And I have to say: Man! I am good! (and modest. hehe) **


	7. Friday afternoon

**Soda's point of view**

My eyes cracked open. Bright sunlight invaded my vision, so I re closed my eyes to block out the pain. I felt a strong hand gripping my shoulder. I cracked my eyes open a second time and squinted.

I was seated in the back seat of a car. Crushed-in metal, ripped-up upholstery; I know cars, and this one was definitely totaled.

The grip on my shoulder began to shake me, and I realized someone was saying my name. "Soda? Soda? Are you all right Soda!?"

I turned my head to locate the voice. Darry hunched beside me in the backseat.

"You hit your head," he informed me.

"That would explain the headache," I agreed. "But it's starting to clear up." And it was; the pain started to ease a bit, but it didn't completely go away.

"Can you get up?'

I slowly tested out my limbs. I moved my arms back and forth, flexed my feet, and turned my legs. Nothing seemed to be broken, although I did have glass scratches up and down my left side. With Darry's help I staggered my way out of the car. We left out the right side because there was no way that the left would ever open again.

Sirens' screams could be heard getting louder as they neared.

_Good thing an ambulance is coming_, I thought as darkness gathered. I felt strong arms catch me as I fell.

* * *

For the second time that day I cracked my eyes open painfully to find Darry hunched over me. 

I was lying in a hospital room. The narrow cot-like bed that I lied on was the only occupied bed in the room.

"You're awake," Darry stated unnecessarily.

"Yea," I agreed.

"Ready to go?"

"I can leave? Just like that?"

"Yep, the doctors said that you would be fine once you woke up. You just need painkillers for your head for awhile."

I reached up and tentatively brushed my hand where I had hit my head. Small stitches were placed just under my temple along my hairline. There was also quite a bit of gauze covering the glass wounds on my arm. I sat up, threw my legs off of the cot, and stood up in one fluent motion.

"You know," I said to Darry as we started walking across the room. "This whole incident was kind of anticlimactic. We have this big car chase, a collision with a semi, and all we get is a little scratched. Where's the drama in that?" Darry ignored me but I riled on anyway. "I mean, can you imagine what a cool story I could tell my work buddies if I had a coma and woke up with psychic abilities? Or if- "I stopped walking just as abruptly as stopped talking. Darry had to back up to be even with me again.

"Darry, where's Pony." Cruel images of operating rooms and intensive care units popped into my imagination. I needed to be there for him. Pony hated hospitals.

"Relax," Darry advised me. He pushed on my shoulder and guided me forward. "Pony's out there."

Sure enough, Pony, Steve, and Evie were waiting for me in the nearby waiting room. Two-Bit probably didn't answer the phone or something and never got the message. My best buddy and brother leapt up when they saw me. Pony was wearing identical gauze as mine on his left arm, only he had to wear a sling.

"Check this out." Pony lifted up his shirt to reveal that his ribs were taped up. He had the same white faced sick look on his face that Steve had when he broke his ribs thirteen years ago. I probably didn't look too great either.

Steve clapped me on the back. "You thought you could get out of traffic duty with me that easy huh?"

I put on a defeated expression. "Well, I tried my best, but it just didn't work out the way that I planned."

Evie sighed impatiently from where she was sitting. "He's fine. Can we go now?" she snapped.

Steve faced her with a look of annoyance. "You didn't have to come."

"We can get out of here now," I put in hastily.

We all turned and left as a group. When we exited the doors Pony pulled out a cigarette and lit up. He politely offered one to Evie who snatched it out of his hand, she smoked two packs a day.

"I thought you cut back." Darry commented to Pony.

Pony exhaled a flume of puffy smoke. "After the week I've had, how can I not?"

"What happened to those two bastards that rammed us?" I asked. You miss a lot when you're unconscious.

Pony took another drag. "In for questioning, but they're probably out by now. They claimed it was an accident even though Darry told the cops what really happened. But I bet they got one hell of a traffic ticket. Witnesses stated that the wreck wasn't my fault."

"You bet your sorry ass they're out," said a mean voice behind us. I whirled around. There stood the a couple members of the Brumley boy gang outside the hospital doors- again. And they looked pretty pissed off- again.

I took a step forward. Pony ground his cigarette with his foot, Darry crossed his arms, and Steve took on a greaser stance. Evie just continued to smoke, looking impassive.

I put on my hard-as-nails-badass-from-the-hood voice. I'm really proud of it. "Then we'll see them along with you in a rumble. We'll have it all out for good."

One of them spat at my feet. "Just name the time and place."

I opened my mouth to say 'tonight', but Darry jumped in first. "Friday night. Brigham's field. Midnight."

I knew Darry. He was giving me and Pony enough time to heal properly. I almost smiled at his concern, but I kept my expression the same.

"We'll be there."

Just like the good old days, we cooly turned and walked away tuffly as a gang. The moment my back was turned, I grinned the grin that had been threatening to show up. How I missed this! Friday would be fun. I sorely missed the action of the olden days.

**I was going to make the car accident worse, but then I figured I better save it for what I have planned for the gang next. I can't have our boys constantly getting hurt badly. I have to save it for a really big climax. xx evil laugh xx**

**And thank you so much for all your encouraging/funny/random reviews. I love each individual one! They really, really brighten my day. (And they make me update faster, which is why this chapter is up only one day later.)**


	8. Saturday

**Author's note: I just thought I'd warn you that Saturday and Sunday are filler chapters. They're both short with not a lot of substance to them, but they're worth a quick read. I want the boys all to be at their respective jobs on Monday when I throw a big monkey wrench in the middle of the plot. MWAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!**

**Soda'a point of view**

Everything after we left the hospital on Friday was a blur. My pain medication made it all run together. I remembered Steve dropping Pony off, then the next thing I knew it was Saturday morning and I was waking up in my own bed.

I squinted at the clock. It was a quarter 'til ten. With a sigh, I heaved myself out of bed to stagger pitifully into the bathroom. I stared at my reflection in the medicine cabinet. Not to brag, but even with bed hair, stitches, and droopy, sleep filled eyes, I still looked good. I reached for my razor and shaving cream. Being so handsome all the time can be a blessing and a curse. Hell, it's just a blessing!

As I shaved, the aroma of chicken soup reached my nose. I grinned and finished what I was dong fast. Pony must have come over to check up on my condition. This was especially sweet considering he was in pretty much the same condition as me.

When I reached the kitchen door I threw out my hands and gallantly announced, "Honey I'm home!" My hands fell to my sides in shock though, because my ex-girlfriend Linda stood in the kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded harshly. The anger I had felt from our last conversation rushed back to me.

She gave me a pleading look with her pretty blue eyes. "Soda-"

"Get out."

"I heard you were in a wreck, I wanted to make sure that you were okay. I brought chicken soup."

"I'm fine," I snapped. "Now get out. Leave the soup." Although I sounded unkind, something in my heart weakened a bit. Linda truly looked concerned at my safety, just as I would have if something happened to her.

"Wait," I said as Linda headed toward the door with a defeated looking look. "I'm sorry; I know that you're just worried about me. I appreciate that."

Linda turned to face me again. Goodness, she was so pretty. I remembered our last fight. She had taken three siblings away from the custody of their older sister after the parents became deceased. That had struck a hard chord with me when Linda mentioned it because it was so similar to my own story. I had fervidly repeated, "You should have found a way to keep them all together," every time Linda tried to explain to me why she had done it.

Now that a little time had passed though, I could see how childishly I had reacted.

Linda stepped shyly toward me. Her pretty blue eyes pleaded up at me.

"I love you Soda. Can't we talk?"

We were standing very close together, almost skin to skin, and my body was already responding to that closeness.

"I did overreact to nothing," I admitted honestly. "I'd love to talk with you." I smiled devilishly. "And then maybe do more than talk." Linda giggled girlishly as I grabbed her hand and kissed her forehead.

My heart felt more light and optimistic than it had in a couple weeks as I ushered Linda onto the couch, leaving the chicken soup for later.

**Sunday will have a cute little Pony oneshot, and then we hit the real action on Monday.**


	9. Sunday

**You all are so great about reviewing. I even got 5 reviews for dinky little chapter 8. I'm so gleeful that I feel like whipping out chapter 9 right now.**

_**Maddiecake: Most of the guys are in their middle to late twenties, so they **__**are **__**kind of old for a rumble. Ponyboy agrees with you completely, as you'll see in a couple of chapters (friday to be specific).**_

**Ponyboy's point of view**

I woke up in my apartment as the last rays of sun rose over the horizon. That was unusual for me because I usually woke up at dawn, drank some coffee while watching the sunrise, then went back to sleep for a couple of hours before I absolutely had to get up. Since my routine was shot for that day, I decided just to go ahead and wake up.

Subconsciously knowing where I was about to go, I pulled a nice pair of slacks and a collared, button up shirt from my dresser. The shirt was a little wrinkled, so I smoothed it down the best I could with a little water from the sink. I trekked down five flights of stairs and reached the sidewalk. Once outside, I noticed ominous gray clouds hanging low in the sky, so I trekked back up five flights of stairs to retrieve my umbrella.

Knowing that my brothers would knock me upside the head if they found out any different, I kept to busy (therefore safe) streets as I headed toward my intended destination. I found myself in front of the church that Johnny and I used to come to. Back before we got embarrassed away by the gang.

Because the service was already going, I slipped unnoticed into one of the back pews.

As the organ wheezed out a nostalgic hymn, my eyes drifted around. There was the spot I threw up my Easter candy when I was five. Up at the altar was where the caskets of my parents once sat. By the back stained glass window was the pew where Johnny and I customarily sat. And there was the spot that Two-Bit dropped the hymnal loudly during a sermon.

Normally I don't go to church much. But that Sunday I felt that I needed to. I prayed to God to keep my brothers safe in the upcoming week, and I gave thanks that we all made it out of my totaled car alive and relatively unhurt. Lastly I prayed for Johnny and Dally. They had been dead for thirteen years, but even after that long it still hurt to think about them.

Thirteen years…, I marveled to myself as the last strains of hymn chords died away and the congregation sat down for the sermon. I wasn't listening to it though, I was so caught up in my mental reminiscence. I had nearly doubled in age since I last saw my best friend. No one had ever replaced Johnny in my affections. For no one had ever understood me like Johnny. Soda certainly tried, but you can't be a social butterfly like Soda to truly understand shy guys like Johnny and I. My heart squeezed as I remembered those last days of me and Johnny hanging out in that abandoned church. Had I known they would be some of our last days together, I would have treasured each moment.

I felt tears of nostalgia for my fallen friends burn at the bottom of my eyes, but I didn't shed a single one. To this day I'm still a greaser in my heart, and greasers are no bawl babies.

**Okay guys, big Monday is coming up next! And trust me, it's a doozy. (Well, it's a doozy in my head, I haven't actually written it down yet.) I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes. It's two in the morning and I want to go to bed.**


	10. Early Monday morning

**Ponyboy's point of view**

A pounding at my door woke me up. The sun hadn't even risen yet! I stumbled to the front door and jerked it open.

"What," I snarled to the cheerful face of Two-Bit Matthews. He pushed me into the apartment.

"Rise and shine princess," he sang. "For today is a B-E-A-U-tiful day!"

Since I didn't have a car anymore, Two-Bit offered to drive me to work. It was convenient because we both lived in the same apartment building and both worked on the TCC campus. It was inconvenient because Two-Bit had to be there several hours before I had to be there.

"You're way too cheerful for this time of day," I muttered.

"What can I say? You get used to it. Plus, your brother gets pissed off when people are late. And trust me when I say _nobody_ likes to piss off Darry." He paused. "With the possible exception of you. I still haven't figured if you like to drive Darry up the wall on purpose or not."

"It's rarely intentional."

I threw on polo shirt and a pair of jeans. I was ready to go in under 59 seconds.

"No shower?" Two-Bit tried to give me a disgusted look over his nose, but he couldn't pull it off.

"It's too early to shower."

"No breakfast?"

"It's too early to eat."

"No good morning kiss, my honey lamb?"

"It'll always be too early for that, you loser."

"Hey, I resent that! I wouldn't annoy your chauffer if I were you."

"Chauffer's shouldn't be so impudent."

"I don't even know that means."

"Exactly why it's a good thing you're not me."

Two-Bit and I have always been good buddies. We kept up our animated banter all the way to Tulsa Community College.

Two-Bit pulled unevenly into the English building's parking lot. He took up two parking spaces.

"Looks like a storm is a brewin'," Two-Bit drawled as we got out of his car. Heavy, dark clouds covered the entire sky. It was like we were standing under a murky bowl. Strong winds gusted against my clothes.

"You can't even see the sunrise," I commented. "As if my routine wasn't thrown off enough as it is."

Two-Bit and I started walking in the same direction. I peeled off to go into the east entrance of the English building while he headed toward where they were doing construction on the west wing.

I reached the office section of the east wing and headed to the lounge couch. The offices were set up in a weird, maze like way. It was as if the architect had built all the classrooms, then realized that offices had to be included and tacked them on wherever there was space. But I digress; there was only one couch.

And said couch was already taken up by one of the TA's.

I considered pulling rank and telling him to move, but I decided against it. I wouldn't want him to have a grudge against me and hide my syllabuses or something. Instead I went to my desk. I leaned the chair back on two legs and kicked my feet onto the desktop. This allowed me to lean my head back onto the filing cabinet behind me. Contrary to how it looked to the casual observer, this position was pretty comfortable. (Just as long as I wasn't bumped off.)

**Darry's point of view**

I stood at my normal vantage point when Two-Bit showed up. I checked my watch. He was a little late, but because he got stuck with Pony I would let it slide.

"You're on lap joint duty on the second floor Matthews," I bellowed.

Two-Bit snapped me a cheeky salute as he obeyed. I was glad that Two-Bit worked for me. It was nice to work with a friend. And Two-Bit did good, honest hard word even though he complained half the time.

After only fifteen minutes light rain began to drizzle down. I sighed under my breath. Doing construction in the rain is dangerous. Especially for men higher than the first floor.

I mentally debated with myself. Finally I decided to put the guys on a break. Hopefully the rain would die down soon.

I searched the surrounding area for my megaphone. The wind was starting to get so loud that my voice would not carry.

I froze. A new sound accompanied the howling wind. It was the shrill whine of a tornado warning.

In the distance a black funnel twisted ominously.

Still with no megaphone. I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted at my men.

"Everybody down. Get to safe ground."

Even though none of them probably heard me at all, they all certainly got the gist of what I was yelling. The tornado was headed in our direction.

I knew that the English building had a basement. I directed the construction men into the building and down the stairs, counting heads as they dashed in and down. All were present and accounted for.

As I closed the door behind us I overheard Two-Bit joke to someone, "I guess this means school is out for today."

Pony! I opened the door just as quickly as I had shut it. Someone yanked my arm back as I prepared to run.

"My brother's in the building," I said angrily. I ripped my arm out of the grasp.

"He'll be okay boss. Just stay down here."

But I wouldn't. I had studied the floor plans and knew for a fact that the English department only had one basement. The rest of it was made up of weak wood and glass.

I ran as fast as I could to where I knew Pony's classroom was. It was one of the longest runs of my life. I heard pounding feet following me. It was Two-Bit."

"I want the kid to be safe too," he panted in explanation. I let it go.

Pony's classroom was empty. Two-Bit and I stood uncertainly in the door way of the classroom. This is where we were when all hell broke loose.

**A/N: I was going to leave it hanging here, but I'll keep going a little longer.**

Shattering glass assaulted my eardrums. Dust onslaught my vision.

"Get under a desk and cover your head," I screamed to Two-Bit over the unbearably loud shriek of the tornado's wind.

I followed my own advice and dived under the nearest desk. I ducked my head and covered it with my arms. A loud thud echoed as something smashed against the ground. It was followed by Two-Bit's pain-filled squeal. My head shot up toward where I heard the scream. Nothing was visible amidst the dust and debris though.

Everybody in town knew that the English building's east wing was worn down and poorly maintained. It was in danger of falling on its own accord in a couple of years. In fact, it was scheduled for a remaintenance after the west wing was rebuilt. The east wing would easily collapse under the attack of an f3 tornado or higher; this one had to be at least an f4. And Pony, Two-Bit, and I were caught smack in the middle of it.

**Monday turned out to be waaaay long, so I cut it up into parts. For your reading convenience of course. No need to thank me, You're welcome ;)**

**Reviews are highly recodmended and appreciated.**


	11. Monday morning

_This chapter was really hard for me. I sat down to write it, and I ended up writing sections of the next Thursday and Friday chapters instead. Then I wrote an angsty Darry oneshot. I then looked for inspiration by reading fics from other fanfiction pages; a result of this is that I started two new stories for two other sections. I hope that it's not too terribly obvious that this chapter just doesn't have 'the flow' that all the other chapters have. But I'm biased._

**Soda's point of view**

I was excited when I heard that a tornado was wreaking havoc in Tulsa. Don't get me wrong, I didn't want lives destroyed, but I craved action. Being a police officer is one part super fun action and four parts downright boring. Don't get me wrong again, I love my job. It sure beats the heck out of standing in a gas station all day. And girls love hunky cops even more than they love hunky gas station attendants.

So I was excited, until I heard where it hit.

"Tulsa Community College, the English department- All units needed," the dispatcher droned.

"What did he just say," I asked dumbly. Steve's face paled to white. He didn't answer me. Instead he just put the car in gear and sped toward TCC.

"What did he just say?" I repeated. My voice higher pitched this time.

My best friend didn't answer me. I don't think he even heard.

I started talking fervently, more to reassure myself than to reassure Steve.

"I'm sure they're just being over-prepared. Don't you think that squad units, ambulances, fire trucks, _and_ Search and Rescue are a little much? Don't you? _Don't you?"_

Steve still didn't say anything. His knuckles were colorless as he gripped the steering wheel.

"Dammit." He kept muttering under his breath. "Dammit. Dammit…

Any hopes I had about mishearing the location of the disaster were dashed when we pulled onto the scene.

It looked as though someone had cut a knife down a field and into the English building. The west wing was still standing (no doubt thanks to Darry's superior construction work), but the east side had completely collapsed onto itself.

"Randall! Curtis! Crowd control! Now!" My police chief caught sight of us.

"Let me do rescue sweep Chief," I begged. "My brothers were in there."

Although the Chief pretended to be a gruff character, he was really a nice guy at heart. I saw real sympathy cross his face.

"Okay Curtis. You don't even have to do sweep. Just find you're brothers, and when you find them safe, you come report to me."

I turned and headed toward the rubble instantly.

"But that doesn't mean you," he barked at Steve.

I didn't even stick around to hear Steve argue. I was already running.

I turned and ran toward a group of paramedics and search and rescue workers located fifty yards away. I plunged up and over broken glass and beams, ignoring shouted warnings to "be careful" and "go around it".

A paramedic leaned over the writhing body of Two-Bit. He carefully applied a splint onto Two-Bit's leg.

My eyes caught the eyes of a man standing nearby. He was fine other than a few cuts and bruises. I dashed up to him and gripped him desperately around the middle in a hug. Darry had his arms wrapped around my shoulders just as tightly.

"Two-Bit has a broken leg," Darry told me. He answered my unasked question. "I don't know where Pony is." My stomach dropped.

We broke apart and watched as Two-Bit got carried to a nearby ambulance on a stretcher. He tried to smile and wave good-bye as he left the area.

Let me just say: There is nothing worse than not knowing if someone you love is all right or not. My own mind taunted me with questions. Is he alive? Is he in pain? If he didn't make it, what would happen then? I forced my mind to stop there. I could not think that way. Cruel images of funeral homes, and facing people everyday without my brother in the world kept emerging.

Darry was standing near me, very close in fact. I guess we had subconsciously moved closer to each other. Wanting to hold tight to what we had left. He had a hard expression on his face, and I assumed he was in the same mental state of agony as me.

Movement went on in the corner of my eye. Someone approached me. Put his hand on my shoulder. He told me that they found the body of a man in his mid twenties.

No…No… I didn't want to do this… didn't want to be here! Why?!

Were those my hands shaking? I sure couldn't feel them. What I could feel was my entire stomach twisting… curling… dropping lower…

I sat down very hard. Someone pressed my head in between my legs.

I have always been a mellow guy. I could take whatever life threw at me. But I could not take this.

If that body was Pony, and my stomach was telling me that it was, then I would no longer be a nice person.

A second past, then an eternity.

I heard Darry's voice as if he were far away. Then my mind grasped what he said.

"Soda… Soda… It's not him. It's not. It's not Pony."

The pain in the back of my head lessened. I could sit up.

"It's not him," Darry kept reassuring me. It was as much for him as it was for me though.

Even though the pain in my head eased, my poor stomach still writhed.

"He's probably just eating a sandwich in the cafeteria," I said hopefully. "He's so spacey that he wouldn't even notice a tornado right at the doorstep."

"Yeah, that's probably right," Darry agreed.

There was nothing else to say. We mutely watched from our positions as the Search and Rescue team systematically laid out a grid to search for the victims and fatalities.


	12. Late Monday Morning

_Thank you for last chapter's reviews. I see your point that choppy sentences can be a good thing considering the situation. And I fixed last chapter's spelling typos! Forgive the ones that I know are going to be in this chapter (and preferably point them out). I typed this up really fast, and I have to get up early tomorrow. Mondays are stupid! It is a cliché fact, yet true. Enjoy!_

**Ponyboy's point of view**

I've read in books that when a person is hurt bad enough he or she is beyond pain. The person is in such a state of shock that the mind feels separate from the body.

This was not the case with me. I could feel the pain.

I've also heard that time is meaningless when a person gets badly injured, but that was not the case either.

One minute I was napping at my desk dreaming of chocolate fountain slides, the next thing I know I'm on the floor. It hurt to breathe. And I had an inkling as to why this was: A large concrete slab was pressing down on my chest.

I'm no doctor, but this probably isn't good for a person's body.

For a couple of minutes I attempted to move the heavy slab pinning me to the ground.

I remember when Steve's oldest kid was five or six he attempted to "help" Darry by attempting to move a crate of bricks. He strained until his face turned red and sweat ran down his back. Of course the crate never moved an inch. I had just about the same effect trying to move the slab on top of me.

My next step at trying to save myself involved yelling for help. It hurt to breathe, so yelling turned out to be completely out of the question. I realized that my chest pain lessened considerably if I breathed in very slowly through my nose, and then exhaled even slower out of my mouth. That was about all I could handle.

All I had to do was keep breathing until Darry and Soda found me. There was no question that they would do just that. My brothers always watch out for me unconditionally. There was no shadow of a doubt in my mind that they would personally turn over every stone until I was found. All I had to do was wait for them. (Not that I had much of a choice on that account.) I regretted that I couldn't find them to let them know I was relatively okay.

After I layed there for a couple hours someone finally showed up.

I saw black pants and boots first.

"Hey, Bill. I found another body."

I opened my mouth to let them know I was alive, but thought better of it when my lung recoiled at the action. Oh well, they would figure it out soon enough.

"You better go over and double check before we move on."

The pants and boots came closer to reveal a navy jacket with 'search and rescue' on the pocket. An astonished face appeared soon after when the guy's gaze caught my own. His surprised to see me alive expression melted into a kind grandfatherly smile.

"Hey, Bill. We've got a live one." Bill materialized beside the first rescue guy.

"Good to see that you're not dead kid. Me and Jack are going to get you out."

Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded.

Bill and Jack both lifted together at the slab. It raised a couple of inches.

"We need more manpower," gasped Jack.

"We can't set it back down though to go get help."

"Just yell for assistance. There are some people over there."

They did. After a moment a paramedic showed up. He was followed by two familiar faces.

Darry's face is good at hiding his emotions. But his icy blue eyes were filled with desperation. Soda, on the other hand, wears his heart on his sleeve. His face was an ashy sort of white, and red eyes gave away the fact that he had been crying or had come close to it.

When Soda caught sight of me, he yelped and scrambled down near my head.

Trembling fingers tenderly brushed my hairline. It was the first thing that felt good all morning.

"Oh, Pony," he choked out huskily. I wanted nothing more than to speak aloud and comfort him, but my lungs would not allow that. Instead I forced a small reassuring smile. I'm sure it turned out to be a distressed grimace instead. Soda blanched in sympathy.

_Way to be comforting Ponyboy, _I thought sarcastically to myself. _Why don't you just start crying? That will make Darry and Soda feel better._

Time went by pretty quickly now. It helped that I wasn't alone anymore.

Darry, Jack, Bill, and the other guy all lifted up the heavy slab while Soda pulled my out by my armpits. The slab fell back down with a heavy thud.

Everybody rushed over to me with questions.

"How do you feel? Can you move your arms and legs? Do you feel dizzy? What happened? Can't you speak? Was anyone with you? Do you know the score of the game?"

That last one came from Jack. He reminded me of on older Two-Bit.

I couldn't help it; I laughed.

My laugh came out with a gurgle and a spurt of blood.

Dammit. If I was laughing blood out of my mouth, I had internal bleeding.

**Darry's point of view**

Relief did not begin to describe how I felt when I found out my little brother was alive. Sure he was hurt, but I could handle that. I could handle anything as long as I had my family in my life. All of them that is. I would not be able to stand it if I ever lost one.

As soon as I let go of that stupid, heavy slab I dashed to my youngest brother's side. Soda crouched over him.

Ponyboy's eyes looked glazed over, and he was sweaty. Other than that he looked fine.

"How do you feel?" I demanded. Everybody else clamored in with questions. I felt concerned that Pony didn't say anything. He just stared up at us from the flat of his back. I wanted to hear him physically say that he was all right. With Ponyboy, that didn't always mean that it was true, but it always reassured me to hear it none the less.

I crouched down next to Soda. Soda ran his hands along Pony's shoulders.

"Why aren't you answering?" My question was one among many. One of the search and rescue guys chuckled and joked, "Do you know the score of the game?"

Pony barked out a laugh in surprise. As a result, a fountain of blood poured from his mouth. The paramedic turned Pony on his side and talked soothingly until the fit subsided.

"You'll be okay." The paramedic said. "We'll get a stretcher over here and get you to the ambulance. You might need a little surgery, but the most that you can expect is spending a few days in the hospital."

I saw Pony roll his eyes and I smiled despite my crushing concern. Pony didn't have to speak for me to know what he was thinking. No Curtis boy likes staying at a hospital.

* * *

_**So who else is completely bummed that FeistyFeist completed her Outsiders' series? I know I am.**_


	13. Another Tuesday

**Darry's point of view**

It turned out that the Pony's broken ribs from Friday's accident had been the culprit in his internal bleeding. When the concrete slab slammed onto Pony's chest, the ribs re-fractured down and poked a hole into Pony's right lung. Hence the whole bleeding out of the mouth incident. On Monday night he had an emergency surgery that mended the lung tear. Soda, Steve, Two-Bit, me, and our significant others waited impatiently in the waiting room the whole time. When it was done we all sat patiently at Pony's sick bed until the nurses kicked out everybody who wasn't family. So Soda, Charlene, and I took turns staying awake so that Pony wouldn't be alone when he woke up. We didn't want him to wake up and freak out at all the air tubes he was connected to.

It didn't matter though, because the huge amounts of drugs he was on knocked him out all night and the next morning. I sent Soda and Charlene off to work and stayed for part of the morning until Two-Bit showed up and sent me away too.

"You have a lot of paperwork to do today because of the tornado," he had explained. "And I don't have a job until you get on the job reorganizing everything. Besides, he probably won't even wake up. And I'll be here if he does."

I did what Two-Bit suggested, knowing he was right. I did have a lot of paperwork to do and business phone calls to make.

Around noon I finished all that couldn't be put off for another couple of days. I picked up my wife from her job as a bank teller and hustled back to the hospital.

Charlene and I entered Pony's hospital room. Pony laid flat on his back. He slept soundly with his mouth slack. His open hand resting at his side was filled with shaving cream.

I cleared my throat loudly. The sudden noise surprised Two-Bit, who jumped up guiltily. He attempted to tuck the feather in his hand, which he had been using to tickle Pony's face, discreetly out of sight.

"Are you seriously trying to do the feather and shaving cream trick on someone who is in the hospital? How childish."

"It is not childish," Two-Bit protested. "It's a classic. A true American classic; you can't deny me that. I was just doing what we all know needed to be done." He let out a long, dramatic breath. "Besides, it's not even working. He so drugged up he can't even feel it." Two-Bit demonstrated by pulling the feather back out and brushing it along Pony's face. Pony didn't move a muscle, so the shaving cream filled hand remained safely off his face. Behind me, Charlene giggled at Two-Bit's antics.

"Clean that up," I said exasperatedly.

While Charlene and I pulled up chairs near the bed, Two-Bit obediently dampened some paper towels at the sink to wipe off the cream.

"You'd think you were the boss of me or something," he joked good-naturedly as he worked.

Steve and Soda walked in at that moment. The fact that they were still in full uniform revealed the fact that they had come straight from work.

Soda headed straight to the bed and stretched out on it next to Pony. He threw one arm around his sleeping brother's shoulders. I had noticed after the surgery that every time Soda was in the same room as Pony, he had to physically be touching him in some way. My theory is that the contact reassured Soda of Pony's whereabouts and safety.

"He's about to wake up," Soda said happily.

"How can you tell?"

"I slept in the same bed with him for years. I just _know_ these things." We all stared expectantly at Pony for a moment, but nothing happened.

"Just wait," Soda stated calmly. "Turn on the news Stevie boy."

On every local news channel there were ongoing reports about the tornado's damage. The TV had been on for less than five minutes when Pony spoke. Steve quickly turned the volume down.

"Because I could not stop for death, death kindly stopped for me," Pony mumbled. Everybody looked at person in the hospital bed. For the first time all day Pony's eyes were open. They were heavy lidded and glassy, but open nonetheless.

"What was that Pone?" Soda asked carefully

"It's three," Pony added unhelpfully. Soda's watch dangled near his face. He closed his eyes and looked ready to go back to sleep before answering. "I would be teaching my poetry class right now if I wasn't here."

Charlene said, "Ah that makes sense."

With obvious effort, Pony opened his eyes wider. A loopy smile played at his lips. "You all are such good friends. And good brothers." He reached over and gently patted Soda's cheek. "I love you. You're nice to me all the time."

Soda laughed and patted Pony on the head. "I think you're swell too, but you are _so_ high on morphine right now."

Pony leaned back with a dreamy, out-of-it look on his face. "You know what I like?" he didn't give anyone a chance to guess before he announced. "Rhymes. But I hate it in songs when they rhyme a word with the exact same word. That's just lazy. Unless it's a homonym, then it's okay."

Steve looked over at me. "This is what he's thinking about when his head is off in the clouds? Maybe it's for the best that Ponyboy is so quiet."

Pony nodded. "Steve should leave if he wants to be a peeve. Darry can sometimes be scary. This is 'cuz he has big muscles and is a manly sort of hairy."

"And he is the man I wanted to marry," Charlene chimed in. She kissed my cheek.

"And his head is full of airy," Steve piped up. He winced as I raised my arm to punch out at him. I frogged his arm muscle at the last minute instead. Steve grimaced as he rubbed his muscle.

Staring off into space, Pony added as if he hadn't heard anything. "He'd also be hard to carry."

Soda said, "Pony is rather loony."

"Loony and Pony don't rhyme," complained Ponyboy. He sounded five because he was on the verge of whining.

"Okay, Pony wants to marry Tony."

"I'm not gay."

"Toni with an i, which means she's a girl," Soda clarified.

"Nothing else rhymes with Pony."

Steve piped up, "Bony rhymes with Pony. Are you bony for Toni, Pony?"

"Let's not be crude," I put in hastily. There was a girl in the room.

"Pony was off on another loony tangent by that time. "Coda and Soda rhyme, but how would you combine those two in a couplet...?"

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

Three hours later most of the drugs had worn off, so instead of a drugged-up Pony we had a pissed-off Pony on our hands.

"I'm hungry!" He complained. "No, scratch that. I'm starving!"

"You've already mentioned that," Soda replied patiently. "And we already told you, you can't eat until 24 hours after your surgery."

Pony was sitting up in bed against the headboard. His feet were propped on Soda, who was sprawled half-on, half-off the foot of the bed. Soda's upper torso, head, and arms were on the floor where he, Two-Bit, and Steve were playing cards.

"I don't think you understand. I didn't have breakfast on the morning of the tornado, I was trapped under a building during lunchtime, and I was too busy getting operated on to have dinner. It has been almost exactly 48 freaking HOURS since my last meal."

"I'm real sorry Pony," Soda said sympathetically. He turned his head and looked at Pony. "But you have to wait two more hours. Doctor's orders."

"Screw the doctor," snarled Ponyboy. "Screw _you_."

Soda ignored Pony and turned his attention back to the hand he was dealt. We all knew that Pony got cranky when he was hungry. We just had to let his little nasty comments roll off of us.

"I'm hungry."

"So you've said." Steve gritted his teeth. I knew that the only reason Steve was still there and put up with Pony's temper is because he didn't want to go home. He would do anything to avoid going home to his uncaring wife. Steve has always had an unhappy home life. Linda and Charlene had already left. As for Two-Bit, he never has anything better to do than hang out with us.

Pony crossed his arms and glared at all of us. I ignored his gaze and focused in on the article I was reading.

"Well this is just typical," snapped Pony. "Darry is always reading the paper, and you three are always playing poker. Even at home! Can't any of you ever do anything else?!"

Two-Bit looked up and said solemnly, "The kid's right."

"Stop always calling me 'kid'!"

Two-Bit ignored Pony. "Let's play something different. Like gin rummy!" He dropped his cards and snatched away Soda's and Steve's.

"I had a good hand," Steve protested.

"Well, I didn't. So we're even now." Two-Bit enthusiastically shuffled the deck. He said, "Only three days until we kick the Brumley boys' hides all the way to Nantucket."

"Yeah, I know," Pony agreed.

Soda quickly asked, "Where exactly is Nantucket? You always hear of it, but it's anybody's guess if it really exists."

I knew that Soda was trying to distract me, but I caught on.

"Pony," I said sternly, "You're not going to the rumble. You're in no shape."

"That's why I've got three days- to recover."

I hated slipping into the parent role. "I don't want to have to worry about you."

Pony was already irritated thanks to the no food policy. Now he revved up into absolutely livid.

"Go to hell, Darry! There's no way you think you have any right to tell me what I can and can't do anymore. I'm legal now, or didn't you get the memo? The state's not on your back anymore!"

Pony never talks to me like that, but I understood his anger. "I'm not going to fight with you when you're too hungry and sick to see reason."

Pony, obviously upset, started to get up. Soda dropped his cards and was at Pony's side in an instant. He gently pushed Pony back down.

"Let's just wait and talk about this tomorrow. Then we can calmly discuss this more..." Soda soothed.

Pony was beyond reason. "Discuss?" he repeated shrilly. "What's there to discuss? I'm old enough to make my own decisions. End of discussion. That's it. Period."

I folded up my paper. "Normally I would agree with you, but you're not in top fighting form. Injured people don't rumble."

"If 'being injured' puts a person out of the rumble, then Two-Bit can't fight either."

Two-Bit, who had been a neutral bystander the whole time, was suddenly on Pony's side. "Hey, it's two to one on this one Darry. I don't want to be a broken record, but the kid is old enough to make his own decicions."

"Soda," Pony whined. "Will you please-" Soda cut him off.

"If you shut up right now and for the rest of today I'll smuggle you something in to eat right now, two hours early. Savvy?"

"Fine," agreed Pony. "But this isn't over by a long shot."

"We'll see," I told Ponyboy.

"Oh yes we will," he threw back at me.

It was going to be a long three days.


	14. Wednesday afternoon

**Soda's point of view**

I had never felt more awkward in my entire life!

Except for the time I walked in on Steve and Evie doing something rather explicit. And the time I got stuck in my girlfriend Susan's closet for three hours until her very angry parents found me. Then there was the time I was asked to…

Never mind, this was the most awkward moment I had been in all month!

Wait, killing Jake Brumley had been pretty awkward.

This was the most awkward moment I had been in for the past hour!

That works.

I was sitting in Darry's pick-up truck. The stick shift was poking into my leg while Darry and Pony sat in stony silence on either side of me. It had been like this all day. Both were barely civil with each other. They never outright said anything to the other person, but they communicated their feelings quite well through glares and disgruntled faces.

Ever since my upset fit at their fights when I was sixteen, whenever they were angry they would resort to the 'if I can't say anything nice, I won't say anything at all' school of fights.

At the hospital I had tried to keep a light conversation going. This proved to be impossible with two such grumps.

My thoughts were interrupted when Darry jerked the truck around a corner. This threw Pony against the window with a loud smack.

"Watch how you're driving," Pony muttered under his breath.

We skidded to a stop in Pony's apartment garage. Darry cut the engine.

"Pone," Darry sighed, the first word he had spoken to Pony since he was released from the hospital an hour ago.

"Yes, Darry."

"Let's be mature about this."

"I agree, after all, we're all adults here." Pony put extra emphasis on the word 'adults'.

I changed the subject. I'd had to do that a lot lately. I shoved against Pony and opened the passenger door. I used my forward momentum to summersault down and across the ground.

"Let's go on up!" I exclaimed as I leapt to my feet. Pony and Darry got out of the truck much more calmly.

"I'm home. You can leave now,' Pony stated.

Darry frowned. "Do you want to stay with me for awhile? It will be until you're better. Charlene and I will watch over you. The doctor said you may get migraines or asthma attacks unexpectedly in the next few weeks." Pony's body temporarily had asthma thanks to his damaged lungs.

Pony opened his mouth to flatly refuse Darry's offer. I knew Pony better than anyone; I could see the answer in his eyes. I didn't want my kid brother alone either, so I jumped in (once again). I threw my arm casually over Pony's shoulder and clapped his mouth shut with my free hand.

"Now why would you want to stay with such a stick in the mud older brother when you could stay with your super ultra sensationally radical extra cool big bro?" I wiggled my eyebrows at Pony.

"Wha'd ya say? You could sleep in my bed. For old time's sake."

Pony gave me a small smile and nodded. I gave myself a mental pat on the back for satisfying both my brothers' needs: Darry's need to have Pony watched over and Pony's need to be treated as a buddy rather than a six-year-old.

"Let me go up and get some stuff first," Pony said. I immediately headed toward the elevator once inside while Pony and Darry started for the stairwell.

Looking over his shoulder Pony said to me, "You should know by now that they're never going to fix that thing. It's the stairs or nothin'"

I turned and leapt up the first flight two steps at a time to catch up with them. Halfway up the second flight Pony stopped and put his hand on the wall. A sheet of perspiration covered his skin and his face was bright red form exertion.

Darry put his hand out to steady Pony. "You alright Pone?" he asked with evident concern in his voice.

"Of course," Pony panted out as he huffed in gulps of air.

With obvious determination, Pony pushed off the wall and doggedly finished the flight. By the time we were on the 3rd flight landing Pony was gasping for air but still pushing forward.

Darry and I hovered at his side anxiously the whole time; wanting to make him stop and take a break but not willing to injure his pride further. It was a slow, painful five flights. I had to help Pony up by bracing his arms for the final set of stairs.

Pony was wheezing achingly. Darry hovered nearby with Pony's recently issued inhaler. Pony waved it away.

"But your lungs Pony…" Darry faltered. Darry rarely was uncertain about anything.

I swallowed a lump rising in my throat as I stared at my hurting little brother. If he was in this bad of shape after walking up some freaking stairs, he was in absolutely no shape for a rumble.

All of my life I've had the insightful ability to understand everybody. I could see Darry's point, and I could also see why Pony thought he was right.

I swallowed again as my thoughts turned grim. Pony was going to hate me for this, but I suddenly supported Darry's side.

_**Hmmm, I can't decide which of two directions I want this story to take next. One of them is longer, but I don't want to drag it out when people may have better things to do. We will just have to see…**_

_**And what on earth is up with this new "polls" option fanfiction now has? I guess we will see about that, too.**_


	15. Wednesday night

_**Thank you for all the awesome reviews, I love them all!**_

**_Considering how busy I've been lately, this update came pretty quick. (But I bend to peer pressure)_**

**Ponyboy's point of view**

"What kind of toppings do you want Pony?" The bathroom door was slightly ajar so I could hear Soda's voice even with the water running. Tensions drained from my muscles as hot water flowed down and across my grateful skin.

"Pepperoni," I shouted back as I lathered shampoo into my hair. Showers were amazing. Especially after getting tossed around by a dirty, grimy tornado and working up a sweat by walking up apartment stairs. I grabbed for the bar of soap in its dish, but squeezed it too hard. It slipped between my fingers and slapped the floor.

What occured next was really stupid. It could have happened to anybody… really! When I looked down to locate the evil bar of soap, the stream of shower water landed directly on my head. Lathery suds of shampoo streamed down my face and made my eyes burn. I reflexively stepped forward to rinse my face off. Who knew that the bar of soap was laying a step away from my foot?

As I fell backward I grabbed onto the shower curtain to catch myself. All it did was slow me down for a second before ripping off the rings. The back of my head hit the edge of the tub with a bang. My vision blacked out for a moment before coming back in a shower of stars. As far as pain related hallucinations go, star are rather pretty.

I heard a snort of laughter coming from my left. I squinted through the already-fading stars to see my brother hovering in the open bathroom doorway. His face was alight with mirth. I already could picture how dumb I looked sprawled out naked in the running shower with a torn down shower curtain beside me. My ears flamed at my newest humiliation.

"You could at least make sure I'm okay before laughing at me," I complained. I stood up, careful to avoid the evil soap. (It would have been doubly humiliating to slip again.) I put my face against the running water to let the last traces of shampoo wash out of my aching eyes.

A series of snorts erupted from Sodapop as he attempted to hold back his laughter. "I'm sorry Pone. Are you alright?" Another mirthful snort escaped. "Do you need some help?" Snort, snort. "I didn't realize that you'd need-" he was cut off by his own laugher. He backed up and left. I heard wild, uncontrolled cackles from the living room.

At least he was laughing behind my back instead of in my face.

I took my time in the shower after I re-hung the curtain. There was no need to go the slaughter house right away. I could only thank God that Two-Bit wasn't here.

After getting out of the shower and toweling myself off, I pulled on a pair of baggy sweatpants that were lying on the wet floor. Bare-chested, I walked slowly out to meet my doom.

Linda and Soda were sitting on the couch. They were wearing matching Cheshire cat grins.

"Hey Pony," said Linda. She daintily nibbled at her pizza slice. A coy smile tugged at the edges of her pink lips.

"Yeah, hey Pony!" Soda took a huge bite of his hamburger and olive pizza. I plopped down onto an empty chair and snatched up two pieces of pepperoni.

"Go ahead. Let me have it." At least I had pizza to console me. I bit down and waited with resignation.

"Go ahead?" Soda questioned innocently with raised eyebrows. His tone oozed with sickly sweet innocence.

Linda finished up her crust and kissed Soda before standing up. They were living together again for the twentieth-ish time. I wondered how long it would last. Two-Bit and I ran bets with each other. As long as they lasted longer than four months this time, I was guaranteed thirty bucks.

"I have to run to the store for some stuff I need for tomorrow at work. I'll be back in an hour." She disappeared out the front door.

Soda continued to grin at me.

"That's unnerving," I commented. "Say something."

Soda shook his head. "I can't think of anything. I'm just in too much awe. Ponyboy Michael Curtis: Superman! Semi trucks…tornadoes…stairs…doors…slippery showers... No matter what the world throws at him, he will not be stopped!"

Soda started laughing so hard he started shaking. I pretended to ignore him before I started to chuckle too. I was not on my A-game lately. Today alone I had walked into doorframes thrice because I wasn't looking where I was going. Soda had only been there to watch me hit the wood for one of the incidents though. The second and third times were my secret.

"I can't wait to tell the guys," Soda gasped out. "Two-Bit will be so much better than me at never letting you forget about this."

"You're just lucky I took a shower first today," I joked. "That hit was meant for you." (If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.)

We polished off the pizza as Soda dished out the teasing and I took it.

I concentrated so hard on enjoying my last piece that I didn't notice immediately that Soda was uncharacteristically quiet. He watched me with an odd look on his face.

"Do I have something on my face?"

"How do you feel Pone?"

"My head kind of aches from my fall back there, but the doctor's painkillers are taking care of tornado related feeling." Speaking of which… I stood up and walked into the kitchen. Soda trailed behind me and watched my pop three advil.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Advil on top of the prescription stuff?"

I shrugged and put the bottle back in the cupboard. "Want to watch a movie with me Soda?"

"You know I'm not much of a movie person."

"If you get impatient you can just stop watching. We're not in a theater."

Now Soda had a tone of voice that matched his odd expression.

"Are you thinking about what Darry said? About the rumble? You know he just wants what's best for you."

"Yeah, I know. But I can handle myself."

"You haven't been… well… that coordinated lately."

I shrugged again. "Well the rumbles not 'til Friday."

I brushed past Soda and checked out his movie selection.

"Hey you have The Godfather? Let's watch this. Wouldn't it be tuff if they made another one someday?"

"I don't think your physically fit enough Pony. I know you can take care of yourself under normal circumstances, but these are far from normal conditions."

I felt my blood turn cold. I put the movie down and slowly turned.

"What are you getting at?" My voice sounded angrier than I intended.

"Put yourself in my shoes. The whole reason we're in this mess in the first place is because of me. I'm the one that killed Jake. So now they want revenge on my family to get to me. How do you think it feels to have the people you love getting ruffed up and hurt because of you?" Soda reached out to touch my shoulder, but I pulled back. "The movie theater jumping could have been worse than it was, as well as the wreck. I don't want them to have a third chance at you."

His eyes were beseeching. "Do you think I could stand it if something happened to you?"

My cold blood turned to ice.

"Just say it," I commanded harshly.

"I don't want you to be there on Friday."

I didn't say anything. I headed for the front door. Soda grabbed my hand to stop me. "Ponyboy, please."

Pulling my hand away from him, I said, "I'm going for a walk." My voice sounded emotionless and flat.

I could feel Soda's eyes watching me as I walked away. "Just promise to be careful."

I walked around town for a couple of hours. Why was it that every time I got angry I left the house in a tantrum? Usually I did it to Darry; I had never walked out on Soda before.

I had to stop and take lots of breaks on my walk because my lungs would start to ache. The broken ribs, bruised head, and throbbing arms didn't help either. A small insignificant part of my brain reminded me that I really was out of shape if I could barely walk without getting exhausted. No matter how often I pushed the thought away, it came back.

A watch check confirmed it to be after midnight. I should probably head back before Soda came looking for me out of worry. Dark figures lurked nearby, but I still had my don't-even-bother-messing-with-me-because-I'm-a-tough-greaser walk down. Nobody messed with me.

To my relief the house was dark when I got back. That meant that Soda and Linda were already in bed. The couch was already made up for me to sleep on when I walked in, so I flopped down without even bothering to take off my shoes. The stupid walk wore me out more than I thought possible.

I was so exhausted that I couldn't tell if the dark silhouette of Soda silently watching me sleep was a dream or reality.

_**My chapters just keep getting longer and longer with less and less happening. Apparently the more writing practice I get in, the wordier I become. Tell me if you thought this chapter was boring.**_


	16. Thursday

_**Whoa, I can't believe it has been a whole month since I updated this thing! I feel like I just did it last week. Time flows so quickly lately…**_

**Soda's point of view**

Wednesday night's sleep did not make my list of top most restful nights ever. In fact, it definitely made my top worst. If Pony had been in a better mood I would have stayed up with him, keeping him awake with my unending wit. However, he made it very clear before he stormed out of the house that he strongly disliked me at the moment.

So I tossed and turned all night. Every hour or so I would get up to watch my little brother sleep. And yes, I do realize how creepy that sounds.

I stood in the hallway watching him sacked on the couch (his room did not have a bed in it because Pony took his bed with him when he moved out) and wished that there were anything I could do to protect him from the world. Nothing pleased me more than to see my family happy. I know it is cheesy, but both my brothers' happiness largely makes up my own.

The infamous nightmares started around four in the morning. What was it about this house that made him so scared in his sleep?

The signs are easy to notice when you are staring right at the sleeping person. First Pony's breathing got heavier and more ragged. After that a thick sheet of sweat materialized across his skin. I could see its glimmer from the reflection of the dim hallway light behind me. Last, he started to make pitiful whimpering sounds that I knew from years of experience would crescendo into screams. At that point I stepped in.

"Pony!" I said sharply. In two strides I was at the edge of the couch. Gripping under his armpits, I raised him up into a sitting position and shook him. His heavy lidded eyes shot open without really seeing anything.

"Soda," he sighed with relief and leaned closer to me for comfort. Comfort I gladly gave. It was just like old times. Then he remembered that I was an enemy and pulled away.

"Thanks for the save," he muttered before laying back down and pointedly closing his eyes. I let out a breath of quiet frustration and went back to my spot of vigil from the hallway. He had three nightmares in all. I was by his side for all of them.

**Ponyboy's point of view**

I stalked to the kitchen. My heart was still pounding against my ribcage from the nightmare like a bronc trying to burst out of a shoot. I was glad I only had that one nightmare. I would have hated to keep Soda up all night.

I dug around the cupboard for a big bottle of aspirin because I had a headache and my beaten up lungs felt tender. I located my prize and dry swallowed three tablets.

I heard the front door open and close, and then heard the distinct rumble of Darry's voice. So my relief baby-sitter had arrived.

And that is when it happened.

It was a hard feeling to describe. It was like I swallowed a glass of ice cold water. The feeling of glacial frost dripped and spread out along the outside of my lungs. So sudden was this feeling that I gasped out loud. It sounded wrong. The noise of a strained croak filled the kitchen as the air came only as far as the top of my throat and stopped.

Oh my God, I was physically unable to breathe in!

_This is not good. Something is wrong _some part of my brain fretted. _Do you think? _Some other part of my brain responded sarcastically. The biggest and most panicky question running through my head was _What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?!_

Some sensible part replied _Darry __always__ knows what to do. Find him._ This entire brain conversation took place in under a millisecond.

Darry-of course! I lurched across the tiled floor into the living room on stiff limbs. Darry's and Soda's surprised heads shot in my direction. Surprise transformed into worry, and then melted into panic. Not doubt matching my own terror.

I don't know how Soda got across the room so fast. I blinked and he appeared by my side. He pounded furiously and hard on my back. That was not going to help. I was not choking. Rather, it hurt and my vision dimmed slightly.

For a big guy, Darry moved fast. He was by my side quickly as well. He pressed my newly prescribed inhaler into my hand. I could only stare at the plastic tube laying in my open palm. Under the assumption that I would never have need of it, I had not listened at all when the doctor had explained how to use the medicated inhaler. I probably could have figured it out on my own if my poor mind was not so oxygen deprived.

Darry, being Darry, recognized this and snatched it up and pressed it directly to my mouth. He forced my chin down and pressed the top of the inhaler. At least one of us had been paying attention. I would never complain again when Darry insisted on being with me in a doctor's office. Apparently he had a point when he said he didn't trust me to take doctor's orders on my own.

When the first round of chemicals loosened my chest, it felt like heaven. I can now honestly commiserate with people that almost drown in the sea. You don't realize how precious of a gift air is until it's gone.

After a couple minutes I could breathe again in short, shaky gasps. I worked on getting my breathing pattern back in the normal range for a least five whole minutes. My brothers hunched tensely beside the whole time. Darry kept his hand on my back while Soda murmured soothingly.

The first words I choked out were "that was scary" before collapsing in a fit of hiccups.

"Don't talk, rest," ordered Darry quietly. He led me to the couch and made me sit. He probably would have carried me if I would let him. Soda handed me a glass of water.

I said, "You guys were right."

"About what honey?"

"I'm not fit enough for the rumble." It felt nice to be the bigger person. Plus, how embarrassing would it be to fight skin and then collapse? It would be bad for everybody on my side especially because they would have to deal with me in addition to worrying about the competition. At least now my lack of participation was of my own concession.

I gave them a pleading look. "Can I at least come watch?"

Judging by their expressions, they would not deny me anything.


	17. Friday

**Darry's point of view**

"How old are we again?" Ponyboy griped as we marched as a group toward Spence Park. Nobody answered him but he barreled on. "I'll tell you how old we are: way too old for a rumble. That's how old we are! If I remember correctly, Darry just turned thirty three. I'm going to repeat it again for emphasis: _Thirty three!_ Shouldn't you be having a mid life crisis right about now? Is that what this is all about? 'cause I can pitch in to buy you a motorbike, or a really manly scooter. And another thing-"

"Pony," I cut him off. "If you don't want to be here so bad you can just go home right now. In fact, I think I might prefer it."

Ponyboy quickly changed his tune at the idea of being sent home.

"I never said that I didn't want to do it," he defended himself. "I'm the youngest one here. AKA: the most nimble."

"Oh yeah?" Soda asked as he loped along. He turned around and backwards loped so that he could face ponyboy. "If you're so nimble, dodge this!"

Soda's fist flew out to frog Pony in a thigh muscle. I was grateful that Soda remembered not to hit certain hurt places.

Pony rubbed his leg and glared. "Anyway, as I was saying before I got undeservedly mauled. If it weren't for me, it would just plain embarrassing for y'all. I still can't believe-"

Two-Bit interrupted, "Dude, you are always in a bad mood anymore. I think I prefer the oblivious bookworm to the more recent grouch."

I agreed with Two-Bit. Even though he aggravated me a lot, I liked Pony as my dreamy little brother who always had his head up in the clouds. But in his defense, he always had been a bad sick person. I shuddered to remember about how miserable he made the entire family when he had bad poison ivy at age ten.

Soda grinned at me. "You remembering the summer of poison ivy too?" I swear that boy can read my mind sometimes.

"WHAT ARE WE DOING?!" Two-Bit suddenly yelled. "THIS IS A FIGHT! GET PUMPED!" With those words he darted forward and did two front flips in succession. Steve followed suit and did the same thing only with an added back handspring. He screamed, "I STILL GOT IT."

"AND WE'RE NEVER GONNA LOSE IT!" Shouted Sodapop before jumping onto a nearby fence and somersaulting off. I did something similar to Two-Bit's move while Pony settle for a no hands cartwheel. We all started walking with more determination.

I caught Pony smiling weirdly at all of us. His eyes looked very distant.

"What'cha thinking Pone?" I asked curiously.

He didn't answer. I don't think he even heard me because his eyes still looked far away.

Steve clapped loudly in front of Pony's face and Pony's expression focused to the present. He did not lose the weird smile though.

"I was just thinkin' how some things never change. Motives for fighting at least."

That was nice and vague. I just don't understand how my youngest brother's mind works sometimes.

The Brumley boys were already there when we reached Spence. I grabbed Pony by the arm and dragged him under a tree.

"Stay here," I commanded, looking him square in the eye. He nodded and saluted me.

I reached the group. They had formed a circle with Kyle Brumley standing at the center. Steve motioned for me to get in the center too. Apparently I had been elected to take the first punch. I overlooked the stats. Four on six. Not bad; I like to take on more than one when I fight. These mangy, string hoods didn't look like much competition in any form.

I was right. I knocked down one right away and then took on two. They seemed rightly wary of my biceps. Soda found the toughest looking one to pick on, and I was glad because he got to see a lot of action that way. Soda loved the thrill of a good fight, which is why we were out there in the first place.

It was almost over too soon. There was a very obvious shift of who the winner was going to be. I was disappointed because I wanted to brawl on them some more to show off.

From the patchy dirt, Kyle Brumley regained consciousness and noticed the same odds I guess, because he leapt off the ground spitting mad. He made eye contact with me and darted over and began to frantically claw and jab. One calculated punch on my part sent him sprawling to the ground again. He looked so angry he didn't know what to do with himself. He kept shouting curse words and shaking with hate and rage.

Silver metal glinted in the moonlight. It took me a full second to comprehend what happened. Kyle had pulled a gun out of his pocket. _Shit... _Steve, Soda, Two-Bit, and I all went still. The conscious Brumley boys bared their teeth almost giddily.

"You killed my little brother," Kyle hissed accusingly at Soda before leveling the gun at Ponyboy.

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_**I'm going to stop now because I have somewhere to be in fifteen minutes. Plus, wouldn't you all rather have it in small pieces quicker than one long piece later? Don't answer that, because y'all don't really have a choice in the matter… Review!**_


	18. Friday seconds later

**Soda's point of view**

Nobody moved. I don't thing anyone even dared to breath. (I know I didn't.)

Palms up, I inched a step toward my personal devil.

"Kyle," I said calmly. "Don't do anything you will regret. There are many witnesses right here." I don't know how in hell I managed to sound calm, because according to my screaming heart and clenched muscles I was anything but. I took another slow step forward. Kyle whipped the pistol around to point it at my head. I marginally relaxed. I would rather have a loaded gun pointed at me over Ponyboy any day of the week.

"Not another step," he snarled. I held very still.

Kyle swung the pistol back around to face the gun at Pony again. I saw his finger on the trigger flex down slightly. I coiled to pounce and saw the rest of the gang doing the same out of my peripheral vision.

"Wait," Pony said.

Kyle's finger loosened. "What?"

"Uh…" _Come on Pony. Think on your feet._

He started talking hesitantly, a clear sign that he was totally making up crap as he went along.

"Do you want to -uh- hear a joke?"

I didn't take my eyes off of Kyle's hand.

Because I could see his hand, I could naturally see his face. He looked at Pony like Pony suddenly broke out some wooden shoes and started clogging.

"Why the F--- would I want that?"

Pony pretended not to hear. "Why –um- did the –uhh- bones? Cross the road?

"I don't know. Why?" Two-Bit asked loudly and unnaturally from somewhere to my right. I didn't know for sure because my gaze was still locked onto that hand.

Pony clearly had not thought this far ahead. He really needed to start knowing punch lines before he went around telling stupid jokes to sadistic maniacs. _Words of wisdom to live by._

He finally choked out, "They didn't." Pause "Because… the dogs ate them." He said the last four words really fast.

Everybody paused for a moment to fully take in stupidity of that joke. Kyle snarled, "That is the dumbest F---ing joke that I h-" he never finished that sentence because I saw his pointer finger clench and I leapt. It all happened very fast. I knocked Kyle's hand aside. Pony dove to the ground. Darry leapt in front of Pony's figure like lighting. A loud crack of gunshot sounded and reverberated amongst the surrounding trees. Steve swooped out of nowhere to snatch up the pistol before any of the Brumley boys got any ideas.

I was on Kyle like a wildcat. I straddled him and pounded his face freely. Quivering infuriation goaded me on.

Someone grabbed my arm, "Cool it, Soda."

I shrugged off the offending hand and kept pummeling my fists down hard. If only I wore brass knuckles.

Harder hands grabbed me and pulled me away. "Stop it, you'll kill 'im?"

Kyle Brumley, his face bleeding freely, scrambled to his feet and ran away with the other members of the gang. I was pleased to see that two were limping, five were bleeding significantly, and all were bruised.

"Don't let 'em get away," I nearly shouted, anguished.

"Don't worry, we'll get them," Steve promised. "We're just not equipped to deal with it right now." I knew he was right.

My adreline deserted me at that moment. Suddenly wiped out, I plopped down on the grass exactly where I was standing.

I searched out Pony. He looked relatively unhurt. So did everyone else for that matter. Two-Bit threw himself down next to me on the cold dirt.

"What a night," he understated. "Who's up for it again tomorrow night?" I was not in the mood for jokes. I was too exhausted physically and emotionally for humor. Darry shoved Two-Bit before sitting down himself. Apparently Darry wasn't in the mood either.

I closed my eyes. So much to do. I had a lot of paperwork to do down at the station tomorrow. Steve would help me with that. Not to mention I needed to talk to Pony to see if he was scarred in anyway by his experience and then fix it. Darry would help me with that.

It is a nice feeling to know that you are not alone.

With my eyes still closed I heard Two-Bit ask, "What the heck was with the awful joke Ponyboy? I thought I taught you better than that."

Steve guffawed loudly. "Was 'why did the bones cross the road' really the best you could come up with? I always knew you didn't have a sense of humor, but I never fully realized just how unfunny you really are."

"How about I point a gun at your head and we see just how impromptu you can be?" retorted Pony.

"If I had a gun to my head I would know exactly what to do. First off-"

"Could we please, _please_ not talk about this," I moaned. I didn't want to think about how close I came to forever losing someone I loved unconditionally.

Darry was being rather quiet. I squinted my eyes open and tilted my head to stare at him. He was sitting up straight as a metal rod and staring grimly into the distance. Demons of what-if were probably haunting his mind. I would have to talk to him later too. Sodapop Patrick Curtis: cop, brother, friend, boyfriend, and psychiatrist all rolled into one. And unnaturally good looking on top of it all. How do I do it?

I knew I would not want it any other way. I liked knowing how people worked and helping them out. I doubly liked that fact that my loved ones survived this night. It was a glorious night.

The five of us sat around in the park under the diamond filled navy sky for a couple of hours before heading off to Darry's house at three in the morning. Darry slept in his own bed of course. Pony and I shared the extra bed, Steve took the couch, and Two-bit got stuch curling up on the recliner. We all had the option to go to our own homes, but none of us wanted to leave the others. It was a safety net sort of thing.

_**Author's Note: Okay guys, next chapter will be the last one. It will be an epilogue of sorts. But until then, what did you think of this one?**_


	19. One month later

**Author's Note: What can I say but 'wow'? I can't believe I haven't updated this baby since November! In my defense, a paltry one I admit, I was overseas for awhile and got inspired to work on my own stuff due to England's awesome history. So I guess the other thing I can say is 'sorry'. No! Turn that into a 'really, really sorry'. **

**Since this is the last chapter, I have a few words to say. Humor me on this.**

**Let me just give a sincere thank you for hanging in here with me and giving me encouragement, random thoughts, favorite parts, helpful critiques, and pitiful pleas. Without them I never would have made it this far. Because of you guys I really improved as a writer (not to mention my ego increased tenfold)! I'm sad to see it go, but I feel it ended in a good place. Outsiders reviewers are the best ones in all the fandoms because they usually take the time to type out more than just a few words. A fact I greatly appreciate. **

**This is by far my favorite story, and my favorite amazing group of people!!**

**Now that I'm done rambling, onto the final chapter. (Thanks if you bothered to actually read that wall of text.)**

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**Ponyboy's point of view**

I tensed my muscles up. Icy cold metal froze to my skin.

"Will you stop flinching every time the stethoscope touches you?!" My oldest brother does not have the patience for something he would do perfectly himself.

"Breathe deeply," the doctor instructed. I inhaled obediently. The head of the stethoscope lifted off my skin. I relaxed but then tensed up again almost immediately. He slid the perpetually frozen artifact down my back. I exhaled slowly as instructed.

My doctor lifted his instrument off of me again. I assumed for good; I assumed wrong. I flinched heavily away when it touched my skin again. My ears just picked up something muttered from Darry that had the word "baby" thrown somewhere in it.

"The anticipation is worse than the cold," I defended myself. "Besides, you could be in the waiting room." The only reason Darry was with me at all is because I still did not have a car. For the past month I had relied completely on my brothers and friends for rides.

Darry shrugged. "If I'm going to be here anyway, I might as well be _here_."

"That doesn't make any sense." I grumbled, but I knew what he meant.

Doctor Peters finally dropped his stethoscope and pulled out my file. "Let's have a look at your chart now, Mr. Curtis." He pushed his wire spectacles up and carefully jotted something down on my chart.

"'Mr. Curtis' is for old people like my brother here." I shot a sidelong glance at Darry. His pupils remained firmly fixed on Doctor Peters. For the past month I had made it a personal goal of mine to see how many times I could make Darry role his eyes. It was a hard task considering he was much too dignified for such actions. Plus, I think he caught on to my game. "Just call me Ponyboy."

Doctor Peters smiled. "Okay Ponyboy. All your test results look good and your lungs are back to functioning normally again. I think it's safe to say you're at 90 percent health.

"How do we make that 90 a 100?" I glared at Darry, but he ignored me. Had we not been over this already... all month?

"Keep up exercising regularly and follow the nutrition guidelines I gave you." The doctor closed my file. "Other than that, I'll see you in here for a check-up in six months."

I jumped off the table. "Great. See you then."

I headed to the door.

"You forgot your jacket Pone." I turned and saw Darry holding out my jacket. With my head turned I wasn't looking where I was going and ran into the doorjamb. I quickly checked Darry's expression. Dam, he simply shook his head at my unintentional antics. I knew what he was thinking, _some things never change..._

I would have taken an eye roll even if I hadn't caused it intentionally. Taking my jacket from Darry, I headed out the door with no incident this time.

"Now that I'm at 90 I can relax and go about my normal routine," I said. Darry shook his head. "Curtis men follow doctor's orders."

"Nah, it's good enough."

"No."

"You're not my father," I said, feeling impish.

Darry grinned at me. "I'm the closest thing you have." He walked to the driver's side of the truck and opened his door. I leaned against the passenger side until he leaned over to flip up my lock. Letting myself in I sighed, "Maybe now you and Soda will get off my case. You two have been kind of annoying for this past month. No, scratch that, Soda's been normal-ish, it's all you."

Darry rolled his eyes upward.

I pumped my fist up in victory. "Yes! "

"'yes' what?" Darry put the truck into drive.

"I think we both know."

"Maybe we do."

"Maybe."

Content, I put my arms behind my head and kicked my feet up onto the dash.

"Put on your seatbelt," Darry commanded.

"I don't think I feel like it," I sassed even as I reached for the buckle. It clicked soundly into place. I reached forward to flip on the radio. "Highway to Hell" covered the silence. Again I kicked back.

I was surprised when the soothing sounds of AC/DC cut off. "Hey, I like that song," I complained to Darry.

He just cleared his throat. I cracked an eye to take a closer look at him. His hands were gripping the steering wheel as if it was a lifeline, and he stared straight ahead. A few beads of sweat trickled along his crew cut hairline.

"Darry?" _Is he nervous_? This was a rare occurrence!

"I wanted to talk to you about something while we were alone."

"And?"

"As you know, Charlene and I are expecting a baby soon." _Uh, duh Darry!_

"I already know about the birds and the bees," I smirked.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm a little, uh, unsure, about how good of a dad I'll be. I know that I'm definitely not your dad, but after mom and dad died when you were a kid, did I… Would you change how… Did you… do you think that..."

A smile crept on my face and got bigger the more Darry rambled on uncomfortably. Finally, I pulled him out of his predicament.

"You were a great surrogate father to me and Soda. I can't think of anyone else who would have cared enough to do all that you did for us." I paused and looked at him appraisingly. "Anyone that could be that unselfish so young will be a natural later on in life."

"Thanks Pone," Darry said quietly. "That means a lot."

I swallowed. "In fact, I turned out how I did because of you. I always just wanted to make you proud." Now it was my turn to be embarrassed. The tips of my ears flamed to a handsome shade of maroon.

Darry reached over and ruffled my hair. "It wasn't always easy. We went through some hard times and a lot of misunderstandings." I laughed, remembering some of the awkward times me and Darry had to live through while I was in high school. My laughter died though as the harder times rushed to my memory as well. I pushed those thoughts aside and picked at a happier time. "Remember when we all made it April fool's _month_ back when I was a senior?"

Darry laughed, "You have no idea how glad I was when May rolled around. You all know how to be creative when making my life miserable. I was vacuuming cat hair out of my room for months."

"Two-Bit had a stroke of genius," I agreed. "I never did find out where he got a hold of fifty six cats. Or where they all went afterwards. "

"And then we were always paranoid about whatever we ate all April," Darry reminisced.

"You think you were glad when May finally came. Steve and Soda put me in danger of not graduating!"

Darry clenched his teeth. "I'm still mad about that."

We coasted into my parking garage. Darry pulled into an empty space. He looked at my apartment with the accustomed appalled expression before double checking to make sure he locked the doors.

"Hey, Ponyboy and Darry are back."

"Pony!"

"Ponyboy!"

I turned and saw three familiar faces headed toward me, with Soda in the lead. He crashed into me on purpose and I stumbled back onto my butt. He pulled me to my feet in a swift motion. "You're too easy."

"What'cha all doing?"

I immediately grew suspicious when Steve, Two-Bit, and Soda exchanged glances.

"What?"

Steve shoved Soda. "He's your brother."

Soda threw an arm around my shoulder. "We all kind of like you kid."

"Okay."

"Heck, I even love ya."

I wondered where Soda was headed with this train of thought.

"It is kind of our fault that your junk bucket got totaled beyond repair." He indicated himself and Steve.

Darry put in at this moment. "And we're proud what all you've survived."

"Can't get rid of me that easy," I agreed good naturedly.

"So we wanted to give you a present." Two-Bit looked so excited he could hardly stand it.

Soda mock glared. "I thought I was telling him." He turned to me. "Anyway, here you go." He shoved something small and metal into my hand. It was a key.

I felt dazed. Soda grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me around. "See parked between the white bug and the green Challenger. It's yours." My disbelieving gaze searched for the mentioned vehicles.

"I can't believe you guys," I stammered. My eyes landed on the white bug and looked next to it. "I _really_ can't believe you guys," I said in a new disbelieving tone.

Sitting innocently between the Bug and the Challenger was an old blue bicycle. Guffaws could be heard next to me.

"It even has a bell," Steve drawled.

Two-Bit grinned crazily at me. "Plus we're tired of driving you around."

"Now you can get some real exercise," Darry said smugly.

I looked down at the key in my hand. "What's this for?"

"Why the lock of course," Soda replied indignantly. "Without one, that bike would get stolen in a heartbeat in this neighborhood."

I chuckled. "Good point." I looked around. "Thanks guys. This'll really come in handy until I can afford a car."

Soda threw back his head. "I love this kid," he exclaimed. Full of unused energy, he jumped up and down before hugging me again. "You're sooo easy to please!"

I cocked my head and looked at Darry. A smile completely covered his face. He said, "Two-Bit's old bike will do for exercise until you can use this." He handed me another key.

Like a dummy I asked, "What's this for?" More laughter followed question.

"It goes to the car me and Steve are fixing up for you." Soda supplied.

A slow beam inched its way across my face as understanding dawned. "Really?"

"Really," he affirmed. "It's quite nice if I say so myself. And I know cars."

"Anything's better than what you used to have," Steve quipped.

"Let's go chill out and drink some beer." Two-Bit obviously.

The five of us headed toward the building. I slipped the two new keys onto my switchblade keychain as we walked.

To my right briskly strode Darry. He gave me a half smile and rolled his eyes. "That makes thirteen," I told him.

To my left loped Sodapop. He caught my eye and winked at me. I couldn't help but smile. Soda can always make me smile.

I slipped the keys into my pocket and looked around at my brothers, and my friends who were family. I was right where I wanted to be; where I belonged.

THE END

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_Coming July 2008 to the Outsiders fandom:_

_Hot Tulsa Streets__, by yours truly. Crime, drama, and more angst than should be legally allowed all are gyrating around our favorite golden greaser. Because the hardest part about getting older, is growing up._


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